My grace is sufficient, He said
In the midst of whirling nights and roller
coaster days
Every hard chased minute
Has sixty seconds of uncertain deadlines
Red warnings of jobs unfulfilled
Split second hits and near second misses
Waves of billowing emotions
Cascade over kaleidoscopic networks
Emblazoning
Faces and canvases with
Colors that glow in the dark
Unmet intentions
Scrabble at strained doorways
That opened too late
Or shut too early
Tasks juggle in disordered array
Orbiting the scrambled day with
Arcs of uncertain trajectory
But the all sustained vapor
Has a permeation of grace
Freezing the mayhem
Into crystal drops of disordered purpose
An amazing canvas of salvation
Visible only through a grace glazed lens
Breathe
In slow motion
Sufficiency
A post script itinerary
Only if authored by the scripter of time
His grace, not mine
The arbiter, of eternity, His time deciding
mine
